


Finding Some Rest

by Restitutor_Orbis



Series: A Ballad of Fire [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 19:42:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18817696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Restitutor_Orbis/pseuds/Restitutor_Orbis
Summary: Leliana needs some rest. Alexandra wants her to get some sleep.





	Finding Some Rest

**Author's Note:**

> It's not my best, but I did try my best. I think its cute.

“You should rest.”

It was a suggestion, but it had all the air of a command. Leliana blinked, her eyes adjusting the the blaring light that crackled in the Inquisitor’s hand. Her eyes grew teary, and she wiped away the tiredness that lingered beneath her eyes with a glove. She blinked back the tears, shaking her head awake and rested her gaze on the well-dressed Inquisitor. 

The Inquisitor had just arrived, Leliana supposed, in the dead of night. Most likely, she wanted to keep her arrival in secret, to allow everyone to sleep peacefully without having the need to raise out of the comfort of their own bed to greet her. The Inquisitor probably desired her own bed as well, with the way her shoulders sluggishly rose and fell with every breath. She had the decency to dress out of her armor and leather cloak. The simple white tunic fell to her knees, tied at the waist with a simple, slim leather belt. Her breaches seemed tight, but comfortable, giving Leliana a nice view of the slenderness of her legs. 

Leliana flicked her gaze back at the woman, an eyebrow raised and a yawn threatening to escape her mouth. “I’m fine,” she managed to respond, though there was a tilt of tiredness that she failed to shake off. 

The Inquisitor’s lips thinned, her jaw set tight, a frown forming. “When was the last time you’ve gotten any sleep? A real night’s rest?”

In truth, Leliana could exactly recall the last time she had even gotten a few moments to herself. Sure, she was able to bathe on the regularly, but never for too long. A sense of duty always seemed to linger heavily on her bones, especially whenever she neared the rookery. There always seemed to be a letter to right, a report to read. It was not a taxing job, per say; but after the hundredth report, the words blurred, and the sentences molded and twirled as one like some elaborate dance. 

In this case, she decided to lie. “A few days ago.”

“You’re lying.”

Leliana raised an eyebrow at that, tilting her head to the side. The golden-laced green eyes flickered with a tilt of orange as the fire in the Inquisitor’s hand reflected. They were pretty eyes, splitting into a thousand doors whenever the flame twirled the right way, ever so sparkling. It reminded her well too much of the Breach. But in a way, there was a sweetness to it. A cosmic brilliance that seemed never too shy to unveil itself to the world. Leliana did not know how to deal with either. “Am I?”

Trevelyan gave her a shadow of a smile, both tired and half-hearted. “You forget I grew up in Ostwickian and Circle politics. And I  _ am _ Orlesian. Half, in any case. I can smell a lie as much as you can.”

“A bold assertion, Inquisitor.”

“We’re all full of surprises, no?” The smile grew, twitching upward a devious touch. “Still, you lying to me, and––technically speaking––I can brand that as traitorous actions.”

Leliana could not help the light laugh that escape her lips. “I would enjoy seeing that.”

“Would you?” The Inquisitor twisted her smile into a smirk. Beneath her golden-green eyes were bags of purple and black, mere evidence to the fact that Leliana should be the one scolding the woman for lack of sleep. The spymaster was not the one in danger, after all. She did not have to throw herself in a war torn land, with dragons flying overhead and ancient magisters scurrying about. If anyone needed sleep, it was Trevelyan. 

Yet the woman was as stubborn as Cassandra, perhaps even more so––an ability that Leliana thought impossible for anyone else to top––and her stubbornness often was pushed forward by her unwaning care for her inner circle. But Leliana was no Blackwall, who would laugh and agree to find some rest when given the order to. She could be as stubborn as the Inquisitor as well. Leliana just had more patience.

“But I’m afraid I still have some work that must be finished before I could retire for the night.”

The Inquisitor scoffed. Her black hair fell like shadowy waves, curled and bellowing down to her mid-back. Some strands fell to half-cover her intense gaze, reflected with the lurid, orange-golden flame in her hands. She did not carry a torch, the Inquisitor seemed to find that demeaning to her magical capabilities, but instead used her own connection with the Fade to light her way in the waking world. She was a gifted mage, Leliana would give her that. Perhaps on par with Solas and Vivienne. The ability to conjure light seemed like child’s play to her. “And if I ordered you to go to bed?” 

“Meaning that you haven’t already?” It was now Leliana’s turn to smile, enjoying how seemingly frustrated the Inquisitor flickered in her eye. As she said, she had all the patience in the world. It was needed in her line of work. 

“You know what I meant,” argued Trevelyan, frowning lightly. She sighed and glanced down at her feet. “I’m tired, you’re tired. Go to bed.” 

Leliana raised both her eyebrows. The Inquisitor was not one to argue such a pathetic case as she did just now. Perhaps she was indeed going to far… “Inquisitor, as I said before, I have my work.”

“It won’t be going anywhere.”

“Perhaps so, but it still must be done.”

She waved her hand, and a solid, ice candle holder appeared on Leliana’s desk. She leaned forward, slipped the flickering flame on the candle and then pulled out a seat from the boxes that littered the rookery. It was a near exact replica of Leliana, and the Inquisitor settled herself on it, crossing her leg over the other. “Hand me a pen and a inkwell, if you would be so kind.” She reached over, plucked a report from the large, near-spilling pile, and grabbed a blank of parchment.

Leliana blinked, staring inquisitively at the younger woman. “Inquisitor?”

She glanced up. “My spectacles! Thank you for reminding me!” She leaned to the left, looking through her carrying bag that she had laid on the floor beside the table. She placed them on the bridge of her small, straight nose, and smiled, winking at the Orlesian. 

The sight, despite Leliana wishing to deny it, was quite adorable. Leliana coughed in her hand and resisted the strong urge to roll her eyes. “What are you doing?” asked Leliana, slowly. 

“Helping you.” She said it in a way as if they were discussing the weather.

“Helping...me…”

“Yes.”

Leliana sighed. She would not fight her on this, even a part of her wanted to. “Put your finished work on this pile.” She indicated it with her pointer finger. She leaned over the great book filled and plucked a pen and three inkwells from the small cluster of them that she had on her desk. Leliana handed them to Trevelyan. If she wanted to help her, than Leliana would make the Inquisitor work. Alexandra was a prolific writer. Leliana had faith that she would be able to keep up. 

And she did. Soon, the rookery was filled with sounds of pens meeting parchment, singing a scratchy song, and the light crackling of the dancing flame. 

Seconds melted into minutes, minutes into hours, until time began to slip away in a hazy mist. On occasion, Leliana would glance up at the Inquisitor, observing how her eyebrows furrowed together whenever she read, the slipping of her spectacles that adorably drifted down the bridge of her nose, and her insistent push of her finger against the middle rim. Her bottom lip was tugged by her teeth, and her pen petted the parchment with flowing twirls and elegant curls of her hand, summoning winds from seemingly thin air. Every so often, she would place a report on the finished pile before eagerly grabbing another blank parchment. There seemed to be a new vigor that filled her. All the tiredness seemed to have crumbled out of her, replaced by the insatiable desire to write. Leliana envied that about her. 

Even now, Leliana felt the pull of sleep in her bones. Her armor was heavy on her shoulders, and a headache was forming. She had loosen her hood, throwing it over her head. Her eyelids fluttered with a heaviness that Leliana tried to push down. 

“You should really get to bed.” 

Leliana jolted up, eyes widen in alarm. She blinked, and asked, “Did I fall asleep?”

The Inquisitor was still writing, but the finished pile had grown quite a bit the last time she glanced at it, while the blank parachments dwindled to nearly only ten. “You dozed off,” Alexandra corrected, an amused tilt to her voice. “I thought it would be wrong to wake you up.” She glanced up from the parchment, golden-green eyes dancing. “I think it’s time for bed.” 

Leliana frowned, than turned to the small pile of unfinished reports that was so small compared to the finished stake. She sighed, closing her eyes for a few brief moments. “Very well.” She rose from her chair, her shoulders cracking as she popped some knots that had formed. 

The Inquisitor smiled, a light dancing in her eyes. “Good.” She began picking up the parchment from the finished pile. “I’ll finished these up in my chambers and head off to bed myself.” She grinned, her eyes scrunching together in an almost endearing way. 

Leliana tugged her hood over her head. Though she would not admit it, she was glad that she could finally get some rest. “Of course, Inquisitor.”

She felt the Inquisitor’s marked hand lift her own, and her eyes widened as surprise filled body. Alexandra’s eyes shimmered as she pressed her lips against the back of Leliana’s gloved hands. “Goodnight, Leliana.”

She disappeared into the darkness of the staircase, humming a soft song. She left the ice candlestick behind, no doubt to allow Leliana to be led back to her bedchambers. 

Leliana could still feel the phantom touch of the Inquisitor’s lips on the back of her hand, tingling. Her pulsed pumped and a warmth rushed to her cheeks. 

She glanced at the place where the Inquisitor once stood, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips despite herself. Alexandra was a good partner, eager and swift with a pen. 

Maybe Leliana would request her assistance again on a later date.


End file.
